


I'm Here Now, I'll Make the Most of It

by SilentShifter (orphan_account)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Men Crying, Nivanfield, Post RE6, Slow Build, Temporary Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3367328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SilentShifter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Piers and Chris, It's been 4 months since the incident in Lanshiang, China, 3 of which have been spent in the hospital, 1 at Chris' apartment. The two have almost completely cut themselves off from each other, scared of what could happen if they open up. Piers is struggling with a period of depression while earning comfort being in his body, and Chris just wants to help him get through it. One evening, Chris comes home to a saddening situation that changes their friendship for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bacon, Eggs, and a Rifle

**Author's Note:**

> First Nivanfield story. I got to work on it after my poem, When I Dream, and I think this will be a success considering all the work I put into it. I'm a newbie so ^^; Take it easy XD

It’s been 4 months since the incident in China. _Four. Long. Hard. Months._ It seemed like forever; and every once in a while Chris couldn't help but wonder if it was. The two survivors of that horrific night had now been living together in Chris’ flat... that was all the comfort they could provide for one another. At least, when one had not been sulking of course.

Shrrrrt! The older man of the two pulled back the shades with a deafening noise of metal against metal. Piers cringed visibly while still laying face down on his bed, bare back muscles flexing irritably at the sudden noise. Chris has done this every morning for a month and the routine is one he’s getting used to, since Piers is always too down to get up himself.

“Time for breakfast,” The deep voice laced with concern spoke from across the room. Unsurprisingly, light, bare footsteps had found their way to the side of Piers’ bed when he didn't answer. The younger man could feel eyes stare at the back of his head, obviously worried. A warm hand had slowly began to smooth through the crook of his back and up to rest on his left shoulder. “Come on.” The voice spoke again, softer... sweeter.

Piers couldn't help but relax, that large heated hand against his cool skin, but no need to take advantage of Chris. He flinched before pushing himself up with strong arms, one noticeably contributing more. He still needed to get used to using them equally again. Chris couldn't help but watch Piers' right arm for only a moment, no matter how long he’s been seeing it. The flesh was still a light pink color, certain patches of skin still darker in color. The fingers were noticeably littered with scars, the wrist was a light shade of purple and the fingernails-

“Chris, why are you staring?” Chris shifted his eyes quickly to the contorted face of the man that had just spoken to him, eyes widening. Piers’ eyes glinted hurt at him.

“Oh... I- I’m- sorry-” Chris stuttered miserably, the words clogging his throat.

“Get out.” Piers turned around and fumbled in his dresser for a clean shirt, uttering curses and violently pronounced ‘Fuck its’. Unable to protest, Chris slunk out of the bedroom with a hand on his scruffy chin and sighed, frustrated. But it wasn't that bad, he thought. There were other times when Piers would go as far as to pushing him out or yelling. The more and more it happened, the more often he couldn't blame the sniper, not after everything that he's been through. After all... he’d be just as frustrated.

Chris was never a man with a lot of words. Especially out of the field. When he actually had something to say, it was difficult to get them out. When it came to someone like Piers, the man just couldn't help falling prey to his normally hidden senses. A soft and not overly-domineering side to him that not many saw. Claire, his little sister for example, probably knew him better than he knows himself. And then there’s Jill... he doesn't like to talk about her much.

Sunshine found its way through the light white curtains that had not been opened, gently illuminating the normally dim kitchen. Chris sat at the small wooden table for two and stared down at his hard work; three lightly fried pieces of bacon and eggs neatly placed besides it.

Two slices of toast lay on a small plate in the middle of the table, directly in front of a plate identical to Chris’. He had arranged the food to look like a material rifle, hoping the former sniper would get his joke. After all, the apartment needed some happiness... that was something it lacked for far too long.

Nimble feet came down the stairs and in a moment Piers had walked around the corner, hazel eyes immediately landing in Chris’. Instantly, Chris’s heart jumped, and normally, he would've kept the eye contact. Not today.

The chocolate-colored orbs blinked away from Piers’ gaze and set on the untouched food in front of them, never moving again. This made Piers’ stomach flutter with guilt. But he didn't show it, of course; he was unnaturally skilled at hiding his emotions. _It developed because of your line of work, you’re fine,_ his mother would always tell him. And Piers believed it every time. There was no other explanation, really... but did he always have to involve everything with the BSAA?

When he hadn't been fighting this fucking virus, he worked too hard, played almost never, and hardly took any time to realize the half of it. If he wasn't sitting at Chris’ house trying to recover right now, he figured he’d still be doing the same exact thing; work, work, _work_.

Dressed in a gray tank and whitewashed denim shorts, Chris had seemed to notice through his peripheral vision that Piers wrapped his healing arm in the military-print gauze that he loved.

An awkward silence followed with taking his seat at the table, quietly staring down at his plate of food that had been skillfully shaped into the appearance of his favorite gun. A small smile curled onto the sniper’s plush lips, the faint resemblance of a pink color resting on his cheekbones. Chris, who had already been picking at the last bits of his food, kept his eyes down and hadn't noticed.

“Very funny,” Piers’ smile turned into an underlying smirk as he geared up to say something smart. The cockiness in his personality was just another thing that his Captain had come to love and hate over the years.

“I’m guessing you like it?” Chris cut him off, not willing to sabotage his brain at the moment to return a good comeback. That made their eyes meet again for the third time this morning. His voice had been small and meek; still heavy with deepness, of course, but strangely low. Piers tried to make it out, while all at the same time being very confused. Never, out or inside of the field, has he ever heard _Chris Redfield’s_ voice so ready to break.

Well, except after their arguments, of course.

“Mhm,” Piers smiled up at him again with a slight twinkle in his caramel-colored eyes before redirecting his attention to his food. The least he could do was accept his partner's gift after unnecessarily kicking him out of the bedroom. The smile had lightened up Chris’ mood by a bit; at least he knew Piers wasn't very mad at him anymore.

"I'll be um, visiting the gym later. Wanna come with me for some of your arm therapy?" Chris had finally said to ease the silence in the air. Awkwardness ate at him like a flea to a bear, and if he could do something to ease it, by all means he would. Piers gave a small glance in his direction that Chris didn't miss, prodding his fork at the last bit of eggs gently. "Sure. Whatever." The response had not been rude or cocky in any way in terms of tone; but instead Piers seemed to become saddened and the blush had been long gone.

Chris felt bad at the mentioning of his arm, scolding himself mentally. _Damn it, Chris, why do you always have to make so many goddamned mistakes?_ Piers left the rest of the food untouched and got up to go sit in his room. Chris would've followed, but figured he would let Piers have his privacy for now.

 

They didn't talk again before Chris left.


	2. Another Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers was supposed to meet Chris at the gym a few blocks away from their flat, but he didn't show up. What will Chris find when he gets home?

When Chris came back from the gym, he had been expecting an empty, dull house to be waiting for him. 

That’s exactly what he got. 

Sighing, the tired man kicked his combat boots off and placed a half-emptied water bottle on the dining table. “Piers?” He called through the hallway, beginning to make his way to his partner’s room. A silence greeted him when he knocked, so he opened the door that had been unlocked. 

“Piers?” He called again. The sight of a body balled up in white sheets and a box of tissues on the desk besides the bed shot his heart down. Piers was supposed to meet him in the gym for his therapy and he hadn't come. The body's torso rose and fell with each breath, which made Chris think Piers had been sleeping; he wasn't. The closer the other got to the bed, the more the body shuffled, as if trying to twist out of seeing range. 

So he wasn't sleeping after all. Confused, Chris reached a hand out to the lump underneath the covers and took gentle hold of Piers' left arm. The younger man tried to shake his arm free but, seeing as how it was no contest, left Chris' hand there. "What do you want?" His voice broke just as the soft words were spoken.

Exactly as he had guessed. His ace, the man he knew as a friend, as a partner, his Lieutenant, as... as one of the strongest people he’s ever known, crying in bed. It did more than shoot his heart down, it tore every single piece apart bit by bit and burned them. Ever since Piers was released from the hospital, it didn’t surprise him that the younger male had been suffering; he always shut everything off, either with anger or silence... including Chris. Often Chris wondered what he had done to Piers, rather than just save him from impending doom. No. It obviously dug deeper than that. _Much deeper._

Chris let go of Piers' arm and relocated to the other side of the bed. A chair was dragged over and he sat on the edge of it, leaning forward to intently look at his partner's covered face. "Lower the blankets, Piers." The tone was firm but still coated in an empathetic softness. 

"No." Piers response wasn't as firm, but more protective. Of his dignity. _His pride._ If Chris, his Captain, saw him crying...that would all be gone. Or at least, that's what he thought. 

"That's an order, soldier." 

Piers' tear-coated eyes widened from behind the sheets. Did Chris just....? He couldn't say no to that, off duty or not. Slowly but eventually, the cotton was pulled from Piers' face, revealing a few streams of tears still remaining on his cheeks. 

The pillow had been noticeably damp, along with a small part of the bed below it. As much as he fought them down, the burning in his throat forced Piers to release the tears that were still fighting their ways through one by one. Hazel eyes shot around the room, focusing on anything but the chocolate ones in front of him. 

He saw Chris look at him with such a passion; a gaze that his Captain has almost never held with anyone before. The only time Chris has ever looked at him like that was... that night. The night Piers felt his life went to shit. 

“Look at me...” Chris spoke softly, that side pushing through; the side that was slowly shoved deeper and deeper to the bottom of his heart with every passing year at the BSAA. It’s amazing what a gun and couple of life-threatening situations could do to someone. And then he’d lost his men, forcing himself to dig a deeper hole and forget it all... losing Piers wasn't an option. 

This man meant more to him than he thought he did. 

With slow, gentle movement, the older man took the other’s cheek in his hand; the one that had still been marked with faint scars, littered with the memory of the C-Virus stronger than on any other part of his body. This made Piers flinch, almost backwards, surprised that Chris wasn't afraid of touching that part of him. 

“Captain?” Piers finally moved his eyes to look into Chris’. They sat there like that for a long moment, Chris’ hand on Piers wet cheek and Piers looking at him with tears still coming through those hazel eyes. Without warning, Piers suddenly found himself pulled upright from his left arm and standing, enclosed in a warm, powerful hug. 

He was afraid at first, unknowing of what to do. Then, the longer Piers found himself in Chris’ arms, the more he accepted it. That no matter what, Chris would love him for what he was. _Who_ he was. After all, why else did he tug him into that escape pod, despite the possibilities of being killed by his own Lieutenant? 

Chris still held his partner close. “You’ll be fine... alright? There is no way in hell I’ll let you break on me. Not.... not after everything.” He spoke softly into Piers’ ear, eyes clenched and struggling to hold in tears as well. Piers’ breathing suddenly began to pick up. He felt the salty water come out full force again, but not involuntarily. He was letting it out. 

“Why did you save me, Chris?” The usually broad and unwavering voice faltered again as Piers nuzzled his wet face into the other’s shoulder. Small sobs could be heard through the fabric of the shirt. 

Chris had always vowed to be strong for his boys, even if that meant telling them what they didn't want to hear. He never thought that he would find himself crying with a broken soldier in his arms, but... it happened. Chris released a few tears that he struggled to keep down as well, hands rubbing against Piers’ back compassionately. 

“Because....” He began, the man he had been hugging sniffling, barely inaudible. “Because you deserved another chance. _You earned it_ , soldier,” He felt Piers’ lips curl into a weak smile within the confines of his collarbone. 

“Thank you....” The words were hardly spoken, but instead, whispered quietly. They would stay in that hug for as long as Piers wanted, as long as it would take to get him back on the right track again. 

To shape a fresh start for them both.


	3. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting better between Chris and Piers, Chris can't stop staring at his ass, and Piers' mood seems to be improving. Or is it....?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 120 Hits! =DD Thanks everyone for taking the time to read <3 
> 
> I had fun with the awkwardness in this chapter. XD

The next morning was a good one. 

Chris awoke in his warm, fluffy king sized bed and at once found himself walking to his partner’s room. He knocked slowly and carefully, a bit surprised when he was immediately greeted with a low “Come in.” Opening the door, the first thing he saw was... well, Piers. Only this wasn’t a Piers he noticed often. The hazel-eyed man had been looking over at Chris with the biggest smile he’s seen all month, an enormous Harry Potter book, and a strawberry milkshake already half consumed. 

Chris already knew how much Piers loved to read, especially in times like these when there wasn’t much of anything else to do. He remembered just a few months ago, when Piers was still a pale, sickly husk of his former self. He would always ask Chris to go back to his room at base, gather as many of the bigger books he could find, and bring them back. Les Miserables had been among his favorites, and he finished it within a few weeks. Often, Chris would find his partner laying on the couch, indulging in the latest Sniper Weekly magazines. 

“Chris..! Finally up, sleepyhead? Didn’t wanna wake you, thought you might be grumpy,” Piers said with a cute wrinkling of his nose at the end of his sentence. Wait... Chris thought that was cute? The older man couldn’t help but laugh as the other explained his sleeping positions similar to those of a hibernating grizzly. 

“I see you’ve finally catered to yourself today,” Chris pointed out to the empty plate on the desk and the milkshake. Piers smiled again, a rare occurrence that made Chris’ heart flutter each time. He still couldn’t understand why the smallest of things Piers did excited him. Hell, just hearing that voice was enough to fuel him for the day. 

“Oh, yeah. Left ya some in the microwave... Though its probably lunch now ..” 

...and just like that, his attention had been redirected to that textbook-sized novel in his lap. 

"Alright," Chris turned, about to leave the room and freshen up when his name was called from those plush lips once more. This time, that weird reaction was a hitch in his breath followed by a slow about face.

“We can uhm.... go to the gym today. The gym at base though, ‘cause I'd feel more comfortable there. I-If you want...? I want to.” The smaller man seemed to have a loss of words, strangely, and never in a million years would he admit how uncomfortable it would be to go back to base after almost half a **year.** Piers held the eye contact for a moment before clearing his throat and shying his eyes away, continuing to read the book. 

Chris smiled lightly, pretending to not notice Piers' flustered stuttering. "Of course." Then he turned and exited the bedroom, making a mental note to remember to call the BSAA doctor.

Shortly after relocating to the large bathroom, staring in the mirror was something Chris has taken into his own time. He turned on the faucet to not be consumed in silence and stood there. 

He looked at his reflection; through those experienced and troubled chocolate eyes, counting the scars on his tanned arms, eyeing that perfectly trimmed beard that lay on his chin... just another morning ritual. Only it had been becoming more persistent, and slowly; as if he even noticed. The most common of things that arose to his mind were the non-important usuals: 

_Did I look good today?_  
 _Was my hair always this lop-sided? Oh my mother of God, when did my eyebrow get this out of control?_  
 _I wonder if Jill is still angry with me....._

And on those other days, when all he could think of were those calming caramel eyes, filled with radiant flecks of green and brown that his heart leaped at, the only questions that came to his range of thinking involved his Lieutenant.  
Today was one of those days, when all he could ponder on was Piers. What did Piers think of him? Did he look at Chris as more than just an authoritative figure? Has Chris been eyeing his ass too much lately? As he stared into that reflecting glass, it hit him: 

He _liked_ Piers. 

But why? What attracted him to this man so much? _Yeah sure,_ Chris thought, _he is my partner and Lieutenant, and I’ve known him long enough to call him a close friend, but... is that really what I want? To be friends? Roommates?_ It hurt to think about it, and it certainly agonized Chris to wonder; was Piers even gay? 

Before that night in Lanshiang, Piers was a rather straight-forward soldier. No-nonsense, just like Chris, willing to voice his opinion but remaining dedicated and respectful. Back at base, he was always out in the training field sniping, working on his already perfected skill.  
Straight-faced, obliged.. no indication whatsoever of his sexuality. 

Sure, Chris has dated men and women before, but its not like any of it ever worked out. The only relationship he was able to withhold for a year or two was Jill, and even that ended bad. Hence, which led to their momentous loss of contact. They still saw each other in the hallways at work, said hi or bye from time to time... but that was it. He sighed miserably and trimmed those extra hairs off his chin with a pair of grooming scissors, proceeding to complete his usual routine of pampering. 

 

~~~~~

 

Chris finished his brunch and sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper quietly. Every so often he grimaced at a disturbing article, intently read something involving the BSAA, or rolled his eyes at the mention of some half-naked female celebrity, flipping to the Sports section in hopes to avoid the pictures. After all, there was only one person in his sights right now. 

Speaking of people, Piers came down the stairs dressed in a pair of cargo pants and dog tags almost identical to Chris’, as well as a baggy gray t-shirt. Both articles of clothing hugged his curves almost flawlessly. His signature, that green infinity scarf that was given to him from the entire Alpha team for his promotion to Lieutenant, had been wrapped around his neck cozily. 

Chris resisted the urge (and failed) to stare at those perfectly outlined shapes within the printed pants, clearing his throat and prying his eyes away from the other getting water bottles from the fridge. Piers joined him at the table as he re-wrapped his arm in a fresh military print fabric. 

Chris couldn’t lie, it had been getting better; scars reduced to nothing but vein-like wisps and that pink, raw looking color almost gone. It amazed the SOU Captain how quickly Piers’ system was able to adjust to the vaccine and reverse the virus’ effects, despite the extremity of his condition just 4 months ago. 

He shifted his eyes upwards and found that Piers had been looking at him, hazel irises flickering every so often to his tanned, chiseled collarbones. Chris' sleeveless shirt detailed everything; from his wide chest to those bumpy abs. Chris could easily admit that he was ripped, as anyone who saw his torso would agree. Most of the time his muscular pecs flexed involuntarily, and those biceps were forces to be reckoned with. 

When their eyes met again, Piers couldn’t help but start a conversation. “Sure you wanna wear that to the gym? Those gawking eyes will be all over you,” He finally said with a twinge of hesitance in his voice. 

Chris laughed, a deep, silky chuckle that Piers noticeably shuffled in his seat at. Why did he care about that? Chris tried not to make it a big deal in his mind, but it was hard not to look at that question from another perspective. 

“I’m sure,” He responded, rolling the newspaper up and snapping a rubber band onto it. Piers’ lips, for a quick second, seemed to have formed into a small pout, his bottom lip naturally poking outwards because of its size. It happened so fast that Chris begun to tell himself it was in his imagination. 

When they were both ready, the two men tied the laces on their olive combat boots, stood, and threw on their coats, asking simple questions back and forth like when would they be back, or what would they do when they got there. Piers grabbed the black Nike gym bag and they head out the door, his troubled mind unsure of what would greet him back at base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Sort of. XD The next chapter will have more dialogue and tons of angst.  
> BEWARE...! Er... stay tuned.... O-o


	4. What am I Doing Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That famous question Chris has replayed more than enough times in his mind. What shocked him even more was the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you all can recover from that unfortunate cliffhanger! XD 
> 
> Enjoy~

It wasn’t how Piers acted while getting there or stepping through the building that freaked Chris out, it was more of how he acted once inside. 

The new Alpha team had plenty of time to get used to Piers while he was in the hospital because they visited so often, and so they were pretty glad to see him and Chris getting through everything fine. (Or so they thought...) Most of the men were rookies, noticeably intimidated by Chris’ muscular physique and high-ranking status. They were gone as fast as they came, wishing them both good health and Piers a smooth recovery. After all, the men would soon be seeing each other again on much different circumstances. 

“Looks like someone’s popular,” Chris whispered into Piers’ ear. The younger man swat him away with a playful push and sauntered through the hallways some more, Chris following close behind. Hazel eyes slowly took everything back in, from the high ceilings to the dark oak doors, bearing golden plaques detailed with names in black ink. It’s as if it had all been coming back slowly, that mental map of the facility reregistering into Piers' complex head once again. 

Chris watched him intently, the overriding sounds of their boots pounding against the floor with each step loud in his ears. He watched the other run a hand across the wall as he walked along the corridor, whispering incoherent words to himself. Most of it sounded like questions. Though a long walk, Chris soon realized he had followed Piers through double doors that led to the gym. How long were they walking? He probably watched the unsettled man with such vigor that he didn’t seem to focus on much of anything else. 

The room was almost empty, except for two or three people towards the back working the weights. Once the two were stripped of their jackets, Chris placed a heavy bag up on the hook hanging from the ceiling for Piers, calling back to the brunette fixing his left hand into a wrist wrap. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Chris held the punching bag from the other side and Piers geared up into a fighting stance, fists pulled close to his chest. The punches started out a bit soft, almost hesitant; then when Chris told him to go all out he began to give it everything he got. 

“There you go, Piers! Harder! _Harder!_ ” Chris’ stability remained firm with each blow Piers dealt to the bag, eyebrows furrowed and brown eyes focused on his soldier. 

Piers face was brought to a growling expression, a hint of his white teeth showing through parted plush lips. A few beads of sweat already ran down his forehead, punches harder and faster with each passing second. Both of his arms were contributing almost equally, but one still had an influence on his strength. He brought a punch with the right arm and Chris nearly let go of the bag at the sudden strength, balancing on the balls of his feet and regaining posture in a millisecond. 

Luckily Piers had been too into the punching to notice. He let one more hook fly from his left arm and wiped the sweat from his brow with a clean swipe to the forehead. Chris shook out his arms as he head to the gym bag, flashing a quick glance to the red punching bag. An indentation of Piers’ fist could be seen as clear as day, smaller crevices highlighting where the tips of his knuckles must’ve hit. 

“Good,” Chris said while they drank from their bottles. He got most of the cute, little vinyl coated therapeutic dumbbells out of their bag, handing Piers the biggest one: 15 lbs. 

Piers stretched the fingers on his hands and took it, easily lifting the object and scowling with a soft groan. His eyebrows arched farther than they usually do, emphasizing annoyance. “This is so easy... I wonder when I’ll be free from these pointless exercises...” Piers rolled his eyes, Chris immediately wondering why it looked so good on him. _Don’t think about that,_ He scolded himself. 

“That’s the whole point,” Chris told his partner, who quietly complained. “That’s why its called arm therapy.” 

Piers gave him a brief, stern look, lifting the dumbbell an extra fifty more times before doing the other arm. After a few more minutes, he set the dumbbell down and threw a towel on his neck to absorb the lingering sweat. “Can we go on the punching bag again?” He asked the bigger man with a sudden smirk. “I promise I won’t pummel you along with it,” 

Chris’ competitive side rose along with a smirk to match Piers’. “Is that a challenge?” Chocolate eyes flashed over to the man already standing to change the bag.  
“You bet your life,” 

And the battle began. 

 

~~~~

 

An hour went by. Piers was still punching the bag, the front of his tank and face drenched with sweat. His wrapped fists were aching a bit but that didn’t phase him. It was an exercise to the bone, to see how long he could hold out. Chris’ stomach had a faint pain from the constant indirect punches to the gut, but he was just as determined to hold out as Piers. 

The two men grunted from another strong punch and Piers felt his arms beginning to give out. Figuring that he would lose pretty soon, the sniper let one last strong, breathtaking blow to the bag. Just as his fist made contact, a small shockwave of electricity was suddenly released. If it weren’t for the thick outer covering of leather, it would have shocked Chris thoroughly. 

The man on the other side felt a feeling of brief static, an uncomfortable crackle heard through his ears and his vision blurry for just a moment. Chris convulsed lightly and quickly let go of the bag, breathing suddenly shaky. He rubbed his eyes clear of fog and groaned quietly, finally glancing up to see Piers staring wide-eyed. 

“Piers....” Chris grunted, standing upright again. The punching bag still crackled with a leftover spark, though the electricity Piers let off wasn’t as strong as it would have been a few months before. Good thing no one had been in the gym at this time; the late afternoon was never a popular time for working out. 

“I..... I’m... sorry....” Piers still stared openly and finally looked away from Chris’ narrowing eyes. He eyed his jacket profusely while still keeping his side vision on the other.

“It’s ok, I’m fine,” Chris tried to touch Piers’ shoulder but the younger man quickly avoided any physical contact. “Don’t touch me....!” 

Chris remembered the medication he usually saw Piers take daily. A total of six bottles, four of which were considered to help with anything involving his arm; from regulation of electricity output to pain and appearance. The last two were said to help with mental instability, delusions and 'extra senses'; But Chris tried not to think about those. He hasn’t seen Piers drinking any lately... right? Curious, he was about to ask about it before Piers raced over to his tan BSAA coat and threw it on. 

“Have you been...? Piers!” Too late. Piers was gone. He took off from the room before Chris could even finish his sentence and was probably out the building by now. On his way out, he bumped into a few people at the door who yelped in surprise and glared over at Chris, as if the whole thing had been his fault. That didn’t make him feel any better. It wouldn’t surprise Chris if he got home and Piers began avoiding him all over again. 

“Dammit!” Chris seethed, cursing underneath his breath as he ran a large hand through dark cropped hair. Just when he thought everything had been changing. Improving. Some dumbass named bad luck had to come over and ruin their progress. Chris stood there quietly, still brooding, feeling somewhat responsible for what's happened so far. For a few more minutes he did just that then decided to pack up, hurriedly throwing on his coat and rushing out the building.

 

A quarter hour later, he parked the car and took the elevator up to his apartment home, faint sounds of a shower able to be heard through the hallway. Chris eyed the articles of clothing that lead to the bathroom door, all the way to the combat boots parked in the middle of the hallway. _How in the name of hell did this man run from base to our house in less that fifteen minutes?_ Chris thought, the smell of Piers’ Kyoku body wash flooding the air. He immediately felt the stickiness of sweat and grime on his body underneath the hot coat, stripping of all upper clothes to relieve some uncomfortability and hopefully shower when Piers finished. 

Chris hesitated to get up and get a bottle of beer, a small stash at the back of the fridge that it appears Piers hasn't found yet. If so, he would get a death glare and threatening reminder to lay off the liquor. Though every time Piers spoke to him about his drinking habits, he could still sense that overriding anxiety, a quiet but highly noticeable apprehension for Chris. He would tug the can away, throw out the remaining, and clench a hand over Chris’, a small squeeze that the older man never missed. 

A seat down on the couch invited intense introspection, along with quiet panic of how to bring the medication up to Piers again. Chris’ best inference was that he stopped taking it a few days ago; probably reactivating the electricity and allowing it to bypass the effects of the vaccine. His best bet, anyways. 

The water stopped. Chris’ heart had skip a significant beat, the man already turning his body to face the opening in the hallway. Piers peaked around the side, caramel eyes staring at Chris as they widened to a bizarre scale; probably intimidated by the bare chest across the room.

“Come here.” Chris’ voice carried that usual heavy gruffness, the sharp words stinging Piers’ heart like the crack of a whip. He winced loudly and stood in front of but not too near Chris, torso still wet. The younger man obliterated water still falling from his hair with a blue cotton towel, placing it on his neck as Chris gathered the words. 

Chris couldn’t let his eyes fall on those abs, not unless he wanted to lose every last bit of willpower in his system and fuck Piers to death. No, Piers denotes much more than a sex toy; especially to him.

“Have you been avoiding your meds?” He finally blurted blatantly, apparently making the man in front of him queasy from the silence. He rested his seriously narrowed chocolate eyes into Piers’, expressing radiant concern with nothing but his gaze. 

This summoned a common occurrence when Piers felt nervous lately, lustrous eyes breaking from Chris’ interrogating stare and looking at anything else; chipping paint, glossed floorboards, the leftover dishes in the sink. When an answer hadn’t come soon enough, Chris repeated himself. Piers shifted nervously on his bare feet and finally looked back into Chris’ eyes, which hadn’t even blinked. This felt much like a prisoner of war situation, only expressing much more worry than threat. 

“Well.... I haven’t taken them for a day or two,” Piers finally mumbled through plush lips, fixed look now steadily held with his Captain's. Chris sighed and looked at the floor for a minute, redirecting his eyes shortly after. 

“Piers. You know you’re supposed to take them every day,” Chris’ eyebrows furrowed and Piers suddenly felt the urge to defend himself. 

“I know but, I almost threw them up a few days ago and ever since then I couldn’t bear the taste,” 

“But you’re supposed to take them anyways. Didn’t you see what happened at the gym today? It could be much bigger than that if-” 

“Yeah, yeah, I could accidentally shock someone and kill ‘em, get thrown into isolation and never see the light of day again because of this thing inside of me-” 

“Piers....” Chris’ gaze softened. 

“What? It’s true...! I’m a monster, Chris, I don’t even know why you would think something like this could exist in someone and expect them to have a normal life!” Piers’ tone rose to a dangerous shout. Chris stood, trying to reprimand the situation before it got out of hand and re-word himself. 

“What was it? You just didn’t wanna have another dead soldier on your name....?!” His words faltered a bit, as if almost letting something else slip. 

“I didn’t do this for myself, Piers! I did this for...because...” He so desperately wanted to say _us_ but the word couldn’t even dare to surpass the barriers of his lips.  
"Because I didn't want to see you die! Not like that....! When will you realize that your life means something to someone? People care about you, Piers!" 

**"BUT I DON'T DESERVE YOU, CHRIS!"**

A light gasp from both sides. 

Piers held the gaze reluctantly for a moment and broke it once again, clenching his jaw in frustration; that already accentuated crease in his cheek deepening. It appeared the words sunk in for both men. _Deep._ He didn't look at Chris again but instead walked over and into his room, closing the door softly. No more words were spoken between them until later that night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least now we know why Piers can never keep the eye contact with Chris anymore... ;) Poor Captain Bearfield. Finally some bittersweet closure from always thinking everything is his fault. <3
> 
> Stay tuned!  
> Lol, this isn't a tv show....


	5. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has a painful reminder of just how long he's had the bad luck, and Piers tries his best to find a way to get him through it. Just what will he think of...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I ditched my lazy aura and decided to finish this chapter, I actually had trouble writing this part of the story for no particular reason. XD 
> 
> Thanks to ViridianK for doing a beta on this chapter! <3
> 
> Enjoy~

The dark, flooding area rumbled and creaked with water pressure, collapsing faster by the minute. Debris of shrapnel fell from above, showering the two panicked souls every so often as dimmed lights flickered constantly.

The larger man set the other down, a heavily mangled and deformed appendage replacing what used to be his right arm. Electricity pulses through the limb as an escape pod is suddenly able to be operated, lights barely reflecting through the dim deathtrap. 

“Come on....... got it!” Chris said as he looked back to the pod’s opening door. He reached a hand out to his comrade, a soldier clearly under his leadership. 

“Here we go, Piers, we’re gettin’ out of here,” Just as he helped the brunette to the opening of the escape pod, a brief tug, and Piers released himself from his grip. A short exchange of looks as the SOU Captain took a glance to the BSAA badge left in his palm, still heavily mottled with traces of blood. 

Chris was suddenly swept off the ground, pushed forcefully into the escape pod and landing square on his back. The darker-haired man stumbled to his booted feet, missing the door as it closed seconds before his palms hit it. 

“Piers! No, don’t do this! Open the door!” Chris could only yell through the thick glass of the round window, watching the younger man’s heavily cut face twist in pain, breathing hard as he looked back and forth to Chris and the escape pod controls. 

“Goddamn it, listen to me! We can still both get out of here! There’s still time!” He pleaded, gaze staring at the other’s indecisive face. Hesitantly, Piers began to shamble towards the lever and his Captain couldn’t follow him with his eyes, instead yelling blindly from the window. 

“What are you doing? No, Piers, don’t! You could still make it out!” Chris' voice had been ready to break with overwhelming anxiety, pain, anguish and sadness; the past being repeated. Fear flooded his heart, a crippling horror of losing his men all over again. A burden he could never surpass, no matter how hard he tried. _He was gonna lose Piers._ It deranged his sense of thinking and tore his heart to shreds, but there was nothing he could do from behind that fucking door. 

“Goddamn it, Piers!!” Two hard fists to the sturdy metal, but it wasn’t enough to stop the man from sending that pod out. Nothing was. Piers pushed the lever in with his left hand, ignoring his superior’s orders. 

“NO! Piers! Open the goddamn door- that’s an order!” Piers limped back to the front of the pod, clearly reflecting on the decision he just made; probably mentally digging his grave too. “No...” Chris held the somber stare with his lieutenant, shaking his head quickly as the pod geared up for launch. 

They only held the gaze for a little longer, Piers’ bruised lips curling into the faint reflection of a smile as he gave Chris an approving shake of his head. His last words, his life, everything he’s been through from the day he was born to that very second, seemed to reflect in his dulled left eye, still radiant with the caramel color of hazel. The right was nothing but a white, hollow J’avo eye, no longer able to reflect sentiment; not even the slightest bit of expression. 

The escape pod launched, large pieces of metal debris falling around Piers still standing at the base of the opening, Chris watching bitterly. His shoulders tensed as he began to accept the realities of his situation. 

“PIEEEERS!!” 

“CHRIS!” 

With a disorientated gasp, Chris jerked awake; nearly punching Piers in the face from reflex and survival instincts learned over the years in the armed forces. The younger man swiftly twisted his neck to a side and grabbed Chris’ wrist with his left hand, tugging it downwards. 

“It’s alright,” Piers cooed to the jittery man he straddled, thighs still tensing from Chris’ sudden movements. He stared at Chris for a few moments and then furrowed his eyebrows in acute concern. No lights were open except the dim desk lamp besides the bed, and so Piers' soft, worried caramel eyes gleaming in the darkness were enough to calm Chris' panicked demeanor.

“You..... you were calling my name.... telling me not to do something,”

Chris watched those plush lips with each word before clenching his eyes shut, reaching a hand to his head to grab a fistful of dark hair. "I don't want to talk about it.... Go back to your bed," his voice was still weak with shock from the nightmare.

Piers narrowed his eyebrows and couldn't help placing a hand on Chris' bare shoulder. "No. I wanna stay in here with you," a faint red glazed his cheeks.

“It’s nothing...” Chris shut his mind off to the memory before it became unbearable once again, suddenly remembering all those agonizing nights after what happened in China. In this same exact bed, he writhed and prayed that these memories would go away, and for a short amount of time they did; only to resurface when those fishermen caught Piers off the coast of Lanshiang.

Deciding that Chris has had enough mental torture for one day, Piers sighed and got off of him one leg at a time, releasing the controlling grip on his shoulders. His now product-free hair teetered over his forehead, creating a light shadow.

"Look, Chris....." 

"I'm sorry." Chris said, shuffling over to give Piers more space on the already large bed. Piers sighed and obviously tried not to make it visible, turning his head which caused the makeshift bang to shake. When their eyes met again, no one broke the contact.

"Don't be." Piers finally said, still holding a serious frown. "I should be working my arm and taking my meds, not yelling at someone who cares..... Don't worry about it." 

Chris was about to say something, despite that fact of Piers being right, but he couldn't find anything to throw at his partner that would even the playing field. The stubborn SOU Captain still didn’t want to accept that it wasn’t all his fault. With another part of his lips, the brunette cut his words short once again. 

"Yes. I'm staying. Go to bed." 

He couldn't argue with that, refusing would just annoy Piers. So hesitantly but eventually, Chris turned his body on his left side, facing the opposite wall and away from Piers' searching eyes. Just as the older man drifted into a pre-slumber, he still felt a fuzzy head of hair press against his shoulder blade, just barely. Chris almost flinched when a warm palm touched to the crook of his back, pawing gently at his skin. Now awake but pretending to be fast asleep, he felt Piers behind him shift onto an elbow, a cozy feeling of body heat accompanying him as he leaned in. 

Chris could tell Piers paused for a moment, as if eyeing the back of his neck. Soft words were whispered into his ear; the gentle breath of an I love you. Chris didn’t miss when the words quickly fumbled towards the middle and were replaced with a sweet kiss to his neck. 

He immediately froze, trying not to tense so much so that Piers noticed. Chris’ mind instantly flood with questions that he knew wouldn’t be answered until the next day. _Did he just say that? Did I really hear that word...? Was I just kissed?!_ Just as quick as Piers uttered those words, he turned so that his back faced Chris’ and he scoot to the edge of his side of the bed, putting as much distance as he could between them. 

 

~~~

The bright rays of sun shone profusely, even if they had to push through the thick grey cotton curtains. They reflected painful fluoresce that caused Chris to cringe, even in a deep, hibernating-like sleep. When he finally awoke, the first thing he did was take a quick glance to the spot next to him which, thankfully, had still been occupied with the shape of his partner. His lips curled into the faint shadow of a smile as he leaned in slightly to intently look at Piers sleeping face, plush lips seeming to make him look like he was always pouting. 

A grumble of incoherent words escaping Piers’ mouth snapped Chris out of his daze and he leaned back, getting out of the bed as slowly and quietly as he could; gently moving his legs to the side of the mattress and standing, pulling on his cyan-colored robe and slippers. The events of last night were on replay in his mind from the minute he woke up, the older man questioning if it even happened. Had he already been sleeping? Was it just an extremely real-feeling dream? Piers was in the bed, that surely isn’t in his imagination. 

Scratching at his stubbly beard absentmindedly as he walked around the house, Chris couldn’t help but wonder why his coughs were so dry and unpleasant. A scratch to his throat induced a stinging pain within it, and soon, after completing his morning rituals in the bathroom, found himself rummaging through the living room's medicine cabinet for Halls. 

“Where the hell are those damned mints?” Chris seethed quietly, but immediately halted at the sound of a nearby voice still fogged with sleep. 

"You're screwing up the cabinet." Was the first thing Piers said to him for the day. Chris turned to see him standing at the entrance to the hallway rubbing at a caramel eye lazily, groaning along with his yawn. 

"Well good morning to you too," Chris chuckled and reorganized the contents, standing from his kneeling position to face the former sniper. "How was your rest?" He noticed Piers rub at the back of his head nervously. 

"The usual," he responded almost casually. "How about you? Any more nightmares?" Piers rubbed a hand to his toned stomach underneath one of Chris' large T-shirts while he spoke, naively unknowing just how much it made the older man's heart jump around in his chest.

The mention of the nightmares was unfortunate, because aside from the dry throat, Chris was immediately afflicted with a splitting headache. Before he could topple over when his head began to spin, Chris took a seat on the brown leather loveseat and clamped a hand to his head, eyes clenched shut.

Piers shuffled over and got down on one knee, looking up at Chris as he thought of what to say. The concern in his face was obvious; eyes gazing softly at the pained face in front of him. "Do you need medication for your head?" Piers asked quietly, placing a hand on Chris' bare leg. 

Chris nodded "yes” and grimaced, grabbing his hair tighter. “I….. there’s a medication I took a while back that my therapist assigned to me… Lexapro or something….” He took a pause to gather his words, having felt another sharp pain strike through his brain. “A-after a while I stopped taking them and threw them down the sink, but, I might need to get another note from her....” 

Still staring, Piers took a glance around and immediately recognized the name of the prescription. While in the hospital, his therapist had recommended it to him as well for the anxiety about his arm, but he turned down her offer. He began to wonder just how long Chris has struggled with everything, if it went as far as to when he killed Wesker. Piers struggled with the deaths of his comrades in Edonia, but he knew it wasn’t nearly as frustrating for him as it was Chris. To be honest, he got over it rather quickly. 

“For depression medication?” Piers finally said, shifting most of his weight onto one foot and crossing his arms over his chest. Chris nodded again, opening his eyes for the first time in a few minutes and looking up at Piers through squinted eyes, as if struggling to see something in the distance. 

“Yeah. You don’t mind….?” 

“Of course not,” Piers cut in, rubbing at his eyes again tiredly. “I’ll get ready.” And with those words, Chris followed him with his chocolate eyes prior to Piers disappearing through the bathroom door. _Great, now I’ve got my roommate taking care of me…_

After a couple of minutes, Piers emerged from the bathroom and once again vanished through the hallway, coming back out with a pair of skinny jeans and a simple navy-blue three quarter sleeve shirt. He slipped on his pair of black sneaker flats and looked towards Chris worriedly, a pout visible on his lips. 

“I want you to call me in a half hour.” Piers directed, grabbing his keys off the table and running out the apartment. Chris got up after the door shut and took his phone from the table in front of him, staggering into the bedroom and collapsing back onto his bed. He didn’t even bother to get breakfast; because if he ate he feared what Piers would have to clean when he got back. 

After 21 minutes of laying there almost unconscious, Chris basically forgot to call Piers when flashes of the events in Edonia played through his mind, painfully reminding him once again just how far his bad luck went. A loud groan of pain and Chris continued to lay motionless on the bed, only opening his eyes to see a worried face in his. 

"I got the note, and the pills," Piers sighed as Chris sat up. "Is there anything else you need?"

Chris' eyes immediately softened, with the threat of tears flowing through his eyes present. His throat chalked with the pain of holding them back and he couldn't even look at Piers, who eyed him empathetically and nearly reached a hand out. 

“Closure.” He rasped, still looking at the floor. “Ever since Edonia, I’ve been trying to make up for what I’ve lost over and over again; my men. So when I thought you died… so many things inside me died along with you, and then, when those fishermen… I thought….. I thought it was over. That I could finally feel like I haven’t let everyone down. I just need to know that you… the truth. I need closure,” He repeated, looking up at Piers. 

Piers was staring at something across the room, nothing in particular, clenching his jaw to a painful-looking scale before redirecting his gaze towards Chris. “You want closure? You want to know the truth?” He began to walk closer, Chris noticeably flinching backwards at his rising tone, face anguished with confusion. 

“You wanna know what I think? About you? About everything?” He was now inches away from Chris, practically looking down on him. “What I’ve been dying to tell you ever since I found you in that damned bar? Huh?!”

Chris nodded a firm ‘yes’ as he looked up at his partner, feeling an aggressive push backwards onto the bed as lips met his, soft and sweet. Eyes wide enough to pop and struggling to breath at the surprise, it didn’t bother Chris that his headache immediately ceased, but instead had his heart jumping at the lean sniper’s body pressed up against his.

Piers gently prod at his lips and Chris let him in, intrigued at the young tongue skillfully searching his mouth. The older man sucked at Piers’ bottom lip vigorously, earning a sincere groan of satisfaction. His hand found way underneath Piers’ sweater and rested against the warm skin, rubbing gently. 

Piers pulled his lips away after a reasonable amount of kissing, hazel eyes gleaming with easily intelligible feelings. Chris returned the same look of surprise and contentment, uttering the only words his voice could find. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this fanfic might be ending soon, and so keep on the lookout for the epilogue. ;)
> 
> TBC


	6. You Make it Easy (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter to "I'm Here Now, I'll Make the Most of It". Chris and Piers decide to take a walk to the park and tie those loose ends, a small step in the long road ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it comes! The end (Not too sad, thankfully) of my first Nivanfield story. 
> 
> I HIGHLY recommend you listen to "Easier to Be" By Lifehouse during or towards the end of the chapter. It'll help the feel of the atmosphere and also help you picture their singing voices as well.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iefA7yZGXis

Chris felt a storm brewing outside. 

Dark skies in the middle of a once clear day, even the threat of rain looming quietly through the blackened clouds. He peered out the window with a frown, turning around to see Piers placing leftover dirty plates into the dishwasher. His lips almost smiled at the smell of rain lingering through the window. 

“I want to take a walk,” Piers said while programming the dishwasher. When he finished he walked slowly to the other who had been raising an eyebrow, sensing some sort of suspiciousness in the request. Piers smiled and turned so that he fell into Chris’ arms, the older man catching him sharply. Chris nuzzled into Piers’ neck and the soldier let out a smooth laugh when those trimmed beard hairs delicately brushed against his neck. He bent his left arm behind Chris’ head, rubbing his hand lightly at the cropped hair.

“Well, there’s the park,” Chris suggested, taking a pause from peppering kisses along Piers’ shoulder to speak. 

“You don’t mind getting wet?” Piers asked, taking a surprised glance back at Chris. He didn’t think his lover would agree to practically walking into a storm. “We could stay home and watch movies, drink hot cocoa,” Piers growled playfully and tugged lightly on Chris’ hair. “Play rough…” 

Chris was about to give in to the very likely probability of getting down with Piers if they stayed inside, but with a subtle pause he planted another kiss to the sniper’s neck. That part still had an evident trace of the C-Virus; faint grey veins strewn about across the skin like fading marker streaks. “Not at all.” 

Piers grinned back at Chris, “Let’s get ready.” 

After a series of shuffling around the house fully clothed, waiting to see if the rain would come pouring and cancel their small trip outside, the two men soon figured it would be best to get out _before_ it started. Chris halted Piers just as he opened the apartment door and turned the hazel-eyed man around, fixing the green scarf in place a bit. 

Piers couldn’t control the flush of red that rushed onto his cheeks, unable to conceal his unusually pink face while Chris stared at him with a knowing smirk, still puffing the scarf up to torture Piers. 

“All better,” Chris teased, laughing to himself as the other turned around and quickly rushed out of the door and down the stairs. Chris went ahead and took the elevator, unashamed of hauling his lazy ass into it. When he reached the lobby, Piers stood outside already, glancing at Chris through the thick glass as his eyes flickered upwards to the gray sky, lightening up a bit. 

When they were both out, Chris shrugged gently and began walking. “We could get there on foot.” They spoke quietly as they made their way to the park, a quiet, broken conversation that could go from hysterical laughing to quiet muttering in a snap. Chris, occasionally, would hook his arm into Piers’ and they would walk with their arms looped at the crooks, ignoring the few judgemental peeps they got. 

Once at the park, the rain began to come down in a gentle drizzle, not as heavy that Piers or Chris needed to pull out their umbrella just yet. The older man looked to the dull sky and back to the bright face of his company, caramel eyes meeting his before he could avert his gaze. They both smiled sheepishly and quickly focused on something other than each other, Piers wandering over to the far right and doing something odd with a giant oak tree. 

Chris glanced over, confused, and after he had finished eyeing a skittering squirrel he made his way over to Piers, who had his attention intently on the large tree in front of him. Once Chris made his way there, he saw a heart engraved through the tree, two letters and a plus in the middle of them. 

“C plus P?” Chris asked with a smile, cheeks reddening. He eyed the cleanly engraved letters through the dark wood and then looked at Piers, who smiled at the ground with his cheeks equally colored. Chris cupped a hand around Piers’ cheek and the other looked up, a glimpse of innocence striking through those light brown eyes. They held their warm stares for a moment, both men trying to see beyond each other’s irises; searching for something that had been lost within all the quarrel and hardships. Calamity has blinded them from the one thing that they could actually depend on: one another. 

Chris’ hand almost faltered when Piers took his wrist and pulled him closer, looking up into Chris’ face and closing the rest of the distance with a kiss to the lips. Chris smiled into the contact and when they pulled their lips away, smiled large, enclosing Piers into a gentle hug. Piers wrapped his arms around his former superior's neck and melted into Chris’ grip, not hesitating to place kisses along the older man’s shoulder. 

Chris smiled and began to sway them gently, Piers following along with the slow movements, smiling into Chris’ collarbone. The rain made a light pattering now on the ground that hadn’t been covered with trees, calming their minds and sending them both into a tranquil atmosphere. 

When their hug had lasted a solid three minutes, they leaned against each side of the tree and talked, straight through an entire hour, sharing stories of their childhood and everything in between. 

“It was karaoke night,” Chris began, the two now sitting on dry patches of grass underneath the enormous tree and indulging into the story-telling. “Marco, that crazy bastard, starting playing the reggae and singing Is This Love,” 

Piers couldn’t help but let out a snort as Chris emphasized on how terrible Marco imitated the Jamaican accent. 

“I joined along but fumbled on the words,” He chuckled a bit to himself, “I tried so hard too. We all jumped up on the stage and had our voices breaking at Poker Face,” 

Piers giggled cutely and watched Chris intently as he spoke. “I could imagine your off-key ass,” His cocky comment earned a sarcastic look from Chris, 

“Oh yeah? Bet you wouldn’t last a moment singing Let it Go,” Chris remarked, laughing almost breathlessly as Piers began to blush with a mix of disagreement and embarrassment, “Neither would you!” 

Chris looked over at Piers still laughing, “I know.” Piers couldn’t help but begin to laugh as well and rest the back of his head against the tree, wiping tears from his eyes as he let another chortle loose. After they almost lost their lives at playfully insulting their vocal skills, Chris propped up against the tree and Piers leaned a head on his shoulder, Chris looking down at him as the former sniper let a sigh loose and stared straight ahead, watching each drop of rain patter gently to the ground. 

“When I was a kid, I always used to ask my mom why dad was never around. She would always tell me he would be having a long day at work.” Another rigid sigh from those plush lips and Chris’ eyes softened. “When months turned to years, I grew angry… but I understood what it meant to serve a cause, to be in the force; I was determined. When I was 18 and he retired, I couldn’t help but want to follow his footsteps. So I did. And now I realize just how heartbreaking it is, to love someone and not be able to tell them that everyday,” 

Piers gently nuzzled his face into Chris’ arm, the older man smiling lightly and kissing the top of Piers’ head lovingly. “There was a time when I couldn’t stop staring at you,” Chris said softly through the hair, rubbing at Piers’ thigh with his right hand. “When you were doing target practice out in the shooting range, I tried to hide my ass staring from my office window." A muffled laugh from Piers' lips, obviously suppressing the majority of the reaction. 

"Duh. Did you really think you could spy on a sniper in the middle of practice?" Piers moved his face from the thickly clothed bicep to look up at Chris with a smirk dancing on those pouty lips.

Chris’ eyes widened in surprise and he quickly broke the eye contact, rubbing at the back of his head flustered. He severely underestimated Piers’ ability to focus on things that weren’t directly in his vision. “Damn…. you seemed so oblivious…” His breathing hitched at Piers’ husky laugh, followed by a hand placed dangerously close to his groin. 

“It’s OK. It was cute,” Piers reassured, pecking a kiss onto the lips of his lover. When the rain seemed to have let up, Chris stood and extended a hand to Piers, pulling the younger man up out of his sitting position. 

Piers threw the hood over his head, leaving the spike at the front of his hair exposed. He seemed unaware of Chris quietly cursing at the sight and looking at something other than the person next to him, who was hella adorable. A brief strike of lightning flashed across the sky, causing Piers to flinch heavily in place. His eyes rested worriedly upon the sky and Chris nudged him gently, “Don’t worry. We’ll get out at the next exit and take a shortcut.” 

This helped Piers to relax a little, and soon the North exit appeared up ahead through the leaves of oak and maple trees. 

“...does this mean we’re dating now?” Chris asked stupidly, stealing a swift glance at Piers when he could. There was a brief period of silence and just when Piers answered ‘yes’, ironically, rain came pouring down, soaking both of the hapless souls and fast. Chris didn’t even have much time to react, fumbling with the huge umbrella before he finally got it open, quickly covering himself and Piers with it. The navy blue umbrella must’ve been a supersized one, because they were able to fit another grown woman or man underneath it if they pleased. 

“Well, I guess we signed up for this,” Piers grumbled, shaking his soaked sweater sleeves that now drooped past his hands. Luckily Chris was able to get the umbrella open before much of anything else got wet. They made a turn out of the park and Piers had to look to the other as a guide through the shortcut, judging he has never taken an alternative route to Chris’ home. 

Almost halfway there, Chris suddenly found himself tuning his ears to the sound of a quiet murmuring coming from his left side, where Piers’ presence had been. Still looking ahead, the words became more intelligible as they did louder. He smiled to himself, trying not to look at the younger man or be too obvious to noticing his singing voice. 

“Chasing fireflies…..Elusive dreams. This pre-life crisis, is killing, me…” Piers looked off to his far left as he sang, gaze and focus far from Chris. “Who I was, wasn’t me….Yeah, yeah,” 

“You make it easier to be,” Chris quietly joined in, immediately gaining a surprised look from Piers in return. “Easier to be me… It’s hard to believe,” Surprisingly, Chris could actually hold the tone of this song, just in a much deeper pitch. Piers blushed, quietly saying the last words as he looked into Chris’ eyes, “You make it easy…” 

They sang the rest of the song in unison, creating a pleasant, murmuring duet that no one could hear unless standing besides them. “We speak in silence…. words can’t break,” The route to Chis’ apartment was empty and almost ghostly with only the faint melody of their voices matching each word, identical reactions as each man felt surprised that the other knew the words.  
Once they had reached their favorite part again, their voices amped in volume a bit, still remaining a gentle tune. “Do do do do… You make it easier to be, easier to be me….” Piers nuzzled himself into Chris’ side, still singing as the older man threw an arm over his shoulders. “Hard to believe,” 

“You make it easy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That singing in unison though <3  
> Don't fret, there's plenty more Nivanfield from SilentShifter where that came from, and I hope I wrote this adaptation of ChrisxPiers as well. 
> 
> The story was more 'revolving' around Chris and Piers, because there weren't many other characters mentioned and not many appeared either. The story spanned over a couple of days in the post-RE6 life of our boys and it was just that; the realization of their love for each other. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
